His Final Seduction. Lori Wilde

crush going all Casanova on her.

      What do you mean? She could hear Avery’s voice in her head. That’s exactly what you need. A fine fling with someone you know and trust. Why were you being so prickly with him?

      Why? Because the man scared the pants off her. She’d had him tucked away in her mental keepsakes drawer, along with all her other teenage heartthrob fantasies. In her mind he’d been as unobtainable as a rock star and suddenly, poof, he’d been sitting in the seat beside her.

      Another troublesome aspect was the fact that thirteen years later, he looked better than ever. And he’d been flirting with her. Quint. The most handsome man she knew. Flirting with her, a woman whose looks were average at best.

      You’re only average-looking because you don’t make much of an effort. Wear more makeup and jewelry, spend more money on your haircut, and get some sexy clothes.

      “Get out of my head, Avery,” she grumbled under her breath. “You took off and left me, now leave.”

      “Excuse me?” said the flight attendant, leaning over the empty seat beside her that still smelled of Quint’s outdoorsy cologne. “Did you need something?”

      “No, nothing, thanks.” Embarrassed at being caught talking to herself, Jorgie ducked her head.

      Okay, clearly she had to make a decision. She and Quint were going to be at the same resort for two weeks. And obviously—although for the life of her, she didn’t know why—he seemed attracted to her. So, did she just go with it? Expand her sexual horizons, fulfill her youthful fantasies, or did she let the past stay buried and keep away from him?

      Once upon a time, it would have been a no-brainer. She knew she wasn’t Quint’s type. He liked fast cars and even faster women. By his own admission, he’d never had his heart broken; by the process of elimination that made him the heartbreaker.

      Unless…whispered Avery’s voice.

      Unless what?

      You take full of advantage of him and this vacation. Let him be your love tutor, your rebound guy. That should be right up his alley.

      She had to admit that the idea made perfect sense. It was an excellent solution to her post-Brian doldrums.

      3

      Movies are made for the voyeurs in us all

      —Make Love Like a Movie Star

      AVERY BODEL GOT OFF the plane in L.A. feeling freer than she’d felt in, well…forever.

      Honestly, she loved Jorgie like a sister, but the girl was so stuck in her ways. Sometimes it was as if she were hanging out with an anchor. She did feel a little badly for having ditched her at the airport the way she did, but it was for Jorgie’s own good. It was high time she started having adventures of her own without using Avery as a crutch.

      She stood around with the rest of the passengers at the private airstrip, waiting for her baggage to be unloaded from the Eros jet, when she saw him step off the plane. He must have boarded earlier than she had and been sitting in the back of the plane, because she certainly didn’t remember ever seeing the guy before and he was not someone you could miss.

      If this had been a movie, this would be the point where the director cued the sensual music and brightened the spotlight to focus solely on the devilishly broody-looking man stepping off the plane.

      Everything about him was dark. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark look on his face.

      Avery’s heart thumped. Dude, now here was a man.

      He wore faded black jeans with a hole in the right knee, a black Nirvana T-shirt that had been washed one too many times. He had on scuffed, scarred military boots and the beard stubble at his jaw declared that he hadn’t bothered with a razor in days. Some men might come across as scruffy and unkempt in such attire, but this guy simply sizzled.

      Avery felt an instant stirring in her womb. This one would make a fine baby daddy. Immediately, she slapped the snooze button on her biological clock.

      The last thing she wanted was anything—or anyone—tying her down. You couldn’t be footloose with a diaper bag hanging off your shoulder and a kid on your hip. She was only twenty-six. She had a lot more living to do before she settled down. As the oldest of five children, with her baby sister thirteen years younger, she knew all too well how kids consumed your life.

      She gave herself a mental shake, but she couldn’t stop staring at the guy. He possessed a keep-your-distance aura that made her itch to crowd his personal space. He stepped from her view behind a large man and it was only when she felt her shoulders sag that she realized how tense she’d been.

      The attendants set suitcases on the tarmac and everyone gathered around to claim their luggage. Avery and Mr. Broody Loner reached for the same black travel bag at the same time. She got there first, but his hand quickly closed over hers.

      His touch was warm and firm and disturbing. Goose bumps spread up her arm.

      “That’s my bag,” he said, his deep, evocative voice underscoring the authoritative expression on his face. His rugged good looks produced a persona of unadulterated, masculine allure that could turn a vulnerable woman looking for a little excitement into a mindless pile of quivering flesh. Good thing she wasn’t the quivery, vulnerable type.

      “No.” She stood her ground. “No, it’s not. That’s my bag.”

      “It’s mine,” he said. “And I can prove it.”

      Before she could react, he reached for the zipper and, in one smooth movement, unzipped the bag, just as she yanked on the handle. Immediately, an array of brightly colored thong panties, push-up bras, racy negligees and sex toys spilled out onto the tarmac.

      Instantly, his face bloomed red. “Um…um…”

      “It’s okay to say, ‘I’m wrong.’” Avery wrinkled her nose and tossed him a smug smile. If Jorgie were here she’d be mortified. As it was, Avery was having a bit of fun.

      His mouth dropped open. “These…” He swept a hand at her sexy lingerie. “This is…”

      “Mine,” she said firmly, not the least bit embarrassed to have the contents of her naughty drawer strewn around for everyone to see. She wasn’t ashamed of her sexuality. “And I do accept your apology, Mr….”

      He laughed then, a rusty noise that sounded as if he didn’t use it often. “Stewart,” he said. “Jake Stewart.”

      She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m Avery, Avery Bodel.”

      He shook her hand with a steady grip and the sweet zap to her solar plexus turned her inside out. “Sorry about unzipping your bag. I could have sworn it was mine.”

      “Well, you know you’re going to have to make it up to me,” she said audaciously. No one had ever accused Avery of being subtle.

      “Sure, sure.” He went down on one knee, started plowing through the plethora of panties, bras, teddies, camisoles and bustiers scattered over the ground. Red, black, white, green, purple. Silk, satin, lace. “You got stock in Victoria’s Secret?”

      “I should, considering all the money I spend in their stores.”

      “Do you have any regular clothes?”

      “They’re in my garment bag.”

      “Ah.” Gingerly, he picked up a vibrator, and then he met her gaze with one eyebrow cocked on his forehead.

      “Don’t judge,” she said, and snatched it from him. “A girl doesn’t always have access to a fellow who’s ready, willing and able.” She was charmed to see the tops of his ears burn beet-red. She’d rattled a guy who seemed unshakeable.

      “I find that hard to believe.”

      “Just because a woman can get a guy, it doesn’t mean